Hymns for the Heathen
by titillating tilly
Summary: A brief exploitative piece centered around Blake following the events of Heavy Rain. Blayden in later chapters.
1. Martyr: Bullet Holes in Cameo

A/N: This is the first time in a long time I've worked on a chaptered story with serious intent; I think it could even be traced back to my Sailor Moon days, haha! Please, please, please let me know if it begins to drag on or something particular causes you to lose interest (if you start following it). I tend to avoid chaptered stories in previous fandoms due to the above; they would start out strong but then digress and devolve into rubbish.

With this story, I was attempting to play loosely, very loosely, off Nathaniel's "anti-Christ" comment toward Blake; I've recently come to the realization that even though I am a rather loud mouthed atheist, most of the bands I listen to make rather deep religious references (though the majority of these references are used as metaphors and establish the contradiction and hypocrisy within). This story was born thanks to the heavy influence of Cursive (hence the title) and Brand New.

* * *

Confetti fell around the crowd, cheers and streamers ringing in the New Year; the noise covering the whimpers of a small girl in an abandoned apartment above the celebration. For the first time in a long time he felt the pressure of the case having an effect on him. Dust particles danced in the streams of outside light that filtered in through the small windows. He felt as if his tie was strangling him, tightening and cutting off circulation. The dusty floorboards creaked under his black loafers as he rose on his feet in anticipation, waiting for a hint of the culprit or the girl's location.

He heard what seemed to be a music box playing in the next room as he tightened his grip on the gun. When glancing around the corner he saw the little girl curled up in the corner of the room; at that moment he lost control, lost himself. Carter Blake lowered the gun and stepped into the room; he reached out his free hand and bent over to lower himself to the girl's level.

He'd always felt awkward around children and this situation was no different. He watched her pull her knees closer to her chest as she shyly looked up at him. Her face conveyed her confusion and she pressed her back against the wall to avoid his hand. Blake bit his lip as he dropped his shoulder, kneeling in front of her as he fished in his coat pocket for his badge, "It's ok…"

The fear left her soft face when she saw the symbolic declaration of safety and authority. Her small frame relaxed a little as she began to twist a strand of hair around her delicate finger. Her little knuckle brushed against an antique necklace, the pendant encompassing white cameo of a white flower against a pale pink oval background.

He bit the inside of his lip as he saw hers begin to quiver. He felt uncomfortable without his assertive shell, having to display a gentler façade. The stale silence hung there for a moment before the child sprung from her spot on the dusty floor and flung her arms around his neck; an onslaught of delicate sobs filled the room and caused every muscle in the lieutenant's body lock up at the sudden display of emotion. Her soft whisper broke him, "Don't let him hurt me."

He pulled her against him, his hand on her small back as she nestled into the warmth inside his coat. As she clung to him he pulled the mic on his collar close to his mouth, interrupted by the sound of a creaking door. He narrowed his eyes and looked toward the direction of the door as he placed his hand on his firearm. He felt a sudden shove at his chest and felt her break away from him, rushing to hide under a destroyed cabinet. Instead of pulling his gun on whoever caused the door to alarm them of another's presence he lunged after her in a haunting act of protection.

The girl's eyes widened and her small mouth opened as her tiny hands covered her ears; clarity sat in.

_Fuck! What were you thinking? Good going, fuckhead._ His mind screamed as he felt the first bullet rip through the muscles in his chest. He heard Ash take his place and give the order to shoot. The echo of several officers' footsteps as they rushed up the small stairwell magnified and he attempted to count them as the sound slowed and his vision blurred. Blake saw the small porcelain figure throw herself from her hiding spot and onto his chest, her small hand grabbing at his shirt as she buried her face there, sobbing into the fabric. With his last bit of strength, the lieutenant raised his hand and buried it in her soft curls, his palm resting on the side of her face which was flooded with tears.

He felt her let out a loud cry, her chest swelling suddenly against him before releasing the noise, as she wrapped her small arms around him and press her face further into his chest as her body trembled and bullets riddled the room, shattering the windows and destroying the furniture. She closed her eyes and pressed further against him, the smell of his cologne forever embedding itself in her memory.

All sounded faded into a sole buzz and his vision brightened for a moment, casting a sterile white overlay upon the scene; a brief flicker before the world tinted black.


	2. Eyelet and Lace

Author note: Sorry about the length of time between the opening chapter and this one! I had started two one shots as sort of "apology fics" for taking so long, but never got around to finishing them (ha); I'm suffering a bout of general apathy toward the fandom (hell, just everything) due to current health issues from work related stress. The opening chapters are rather short, and I apologize if you're more one for lengthy chapters; Just attempting to gather the feel for the story again by playing with the atmosphere. As the story progresses, they should grow longer. If things feel splotchy it's to not give away later chapters. Opening lyrics are from "Alexander The Burn Victim" by Scarling.

Eyelet and Lace

_There's no second chances; no time for romances, oh. No consequence weighing.  
No regret or bawling, no well-wishers calling, oh.  
And when he sleeps, I hope he's okay. _

He felt the numbing cold seize his fingers as he stuffed his hands into the slanted pockets of his coat. The nylon lining wasn't much better, the fabric only reflecting the temperature of the city. The snow gave way under his feet as he walked down the Philadelphian street, more of it currently falling from the sky and resting on his shoulders before softly dissolving into the wool.

He didn't mind the cold so much as the pain it caused in healing wounds; even attacking old wounds and causing a dull ache in the scar tissue. The lieutenant released the heavy sigh he had been holding in as he ascended the four shallow steps to the door of his home. As he turned the key in the lock, his blue eyes were drawn to the gently splintering wood of the door frame. The outer layer covered in white paint frayed with pieces leaning back and showing the light brown interior of the wood. It caught his attention for a minute but he quickly brushed it off and pushed the door open, his focus being turned to the heat that greeted him.

"_Liar! Be a fucking man and end it!" She picked up her favorite vase, the one he had given her, full of lilies for their first anniversary, sending it flying at him. He ducked down, hearing it shatter behind his head, keeping his deep blue eyes locked on her mascara smeared face. This was the shipwreck he had been trying to avoid and he felt like he was drowning in it as his hands curled into fists, tightly clamped to his side as he tried to keep his anger locked away. _

He wasn't sure how he ended up here, even looking back on it several years later. The few times that he tried, after drinking too much on occasions such as birthdays and coming home alone after tossing his badge on the kitchen counter and falling back on the bed, he just recalled her finding a shirt reeking of perfume and throwing it in his face when he came home to her. Her screaming and pain wrenched voice coupled with the sound of shattering glass had claimed the memory and etched into the back of his mind.

He had joined the force because he couldn't stand the thought of being stuck in a dull state of being. He wanted the thrill that came with the chase and process of finding the culprit; and in the beginning the chance to sacrifice himself for another human being. The irony of the matter was that he was stuck behind a desk filing reports for the better half of his days; and on the days he got what he desired, it usually led to a boiling anger or general disappointment in mankind; diminishing the idea of dying for any of his fellow species. Despite this, he did still have a soft spot for kids. As much as he had denied it when she told him the news that ultimately affected their relationship, he felt pissed on and trampled. He had finally found someone he felt he could confide affection in and the relationship conveyed the same irony as his occupation.

He pushed past the foyer and the memory attached to it, moving to the right of the small entryway and into the kitchen. Blake opened the fridge and glanced around for something that looked good, more out of boredom than hunger. He felt a sharp pain in the muscle connecting his shoulder to his chest, instinctively placing his hand on the spot and applying pressure. He doubled forward and his free hand found the edge of the granite counter, grasping it as the pain shot deeper in his chest. He clenched his teeth as he straightened his posture to lean against the counter; his thumb gingerly rubbing at the spot as it began to fade.

Carter felt something move against his outer thigh and it took his ears a moment to register the buzzing of his phone. He slid it from the pocket of his slacks and glanced at the name "Perry" lighting up the screen before tossing it on the counter, waiting for the buzzing confirmation of a message as he returned his attention to the refrigerator.

He popped the cheap plastic lid of the milk off and gulped it down as the phone sounded off to alert that a message was in fact left. He sat the carton on the counter and scrolled through the phone to open the voicemail, "Carter, its Perry! I was just calling to check in on you. Give me a call back when you get a chance."

Blake raised a brow at the message and continued his evening routine as he walked back across the foyer to the other side of the house with one destination in mind: the couch. He had taken a two week leave of absence and didn't particularly care for Perry calling to "check in" like his fucking mother. He let the notion of the annoyance fade as he settled into the soft leather cushions. The thin branches of the small trees outside the windows on each side of the entertainment center brushed against the panes to announce the pending arrival of a winter storm.

He twisted from side to side in an attempt to locate the remote. He leaned to the side as he slid his hand under the cushion, feeling nothing. When he began to straighten he felt something against the side of his thigh and lifted himself up to grab the remote wedged between his leg and the sofa. Blake threw his arm over the back of the couch as his other fumbled with the remote, channel surfing for several minutes before giving up and leaving it on The History Channel; intent on completely bypassing each news channel.

Carter reached across the sofa to grab the rolled bag of chips he had forgot to put up last night. The crumpling of the bag drowned out the volume of the television as he pulled a chip out and slowly brought it to his mouth, partially paying attention to the documentary on ancient Rome. The small branch of the tree scratched against the window, distracting him as he bit the chip in half, tilting his head back to minimize the amount of crumbs falling on his shirt.

He dropped another salt coated chip on his tongue and devoted a rather genuine amount of attention as the program skimmed over Nero and Mark Antony and the Punic Wars but once the featured historian brought up the expanse of romantic languages and the derivation of the Western alphabet, his eyelids became heavy and he felt himself begin to drift in and out of sleep. He was finally submerged into sleep when a discussion on the emergence of Christianity reared its head…

A burst of lightning flickered behind his closed eyelids as he regained consciousness, realizing he had fallen asleep in the living room. A headache had settled behind his eyes, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut for another brief moment; it was then that noticed the silence that had engulfed the house. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that the television should be on; only a glossy black screen stared back at him. The house was void of the light given off by the standby lights of his electronics.

Blake leaned his head to the side and slowly rolled it back, listening to the pop as he opened his eyes again. He ran his tongue over his dry lips before lifting his arms up and stretching his entire body, his heel brushing against the beige carpet. When finished, he slid his hand down his pants to adjust himself and paused for a moment, but decided against it and checked his watch; 11:47pm.

Blake grabbed the bag of chips and made his way back to the kitchen, determined not to leave them out again. When his feet hit the cold wood floor he realized just how cold it was in the house, feeling his shoulder blades beginning to lock up. He checked the thermostat at the base of the stairs which read 42 degrees. The god damn power was out. The storm that had earned the weather channel an increase in ratings must have hit early. He continued his path to the kitchen cabinets, pulling the steel polished handle and tossing the chips inside before quickly closing it.

What he really wanted more than anything was a hot shower, but his guess was that the pilot was off so instead he made his way upstairs to the master bedroom. He fumbled with the light switch for a moment before giving up; sleep still claiming the better part of his brain. Blake made his way in the direction of his bed, eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room as the outline of the frame came into view. He grabbed the comforter which has been hastily thrown on top the bed and flipped it down, quickly getting underneath them.

"Fuck…" Carter pinched his bottom lip between his teeth as the cold cotton hit his skin. He rolled on his side and concentrated on filling the linens with his body heat as he closed his eyes in an attempt to ignore the cold and fall back to sleep.

_Her lips burned against the skin of his neck as she worked the buttons of his shirt, "I don't like when you have to work so late."_

_Neither did he, especially when she was like this; though it was a settling end to the rough day that had been laid out before him. They finally caught The Taxidermist, thanks to a nosy journalist. He pulled her closer, playing with the fabric of her white slip between his fingers as he caught her soft lips with his own in a slow kiss, feeling her press further against him as she pushed herself up on her toes to press harder into it. Her fingers grasped his shoulders as she lowered herself and rested her head against his chest. _

_He tightened his arms around her small waist, placing his chin carefully on her head, "We caught the guy today. I'm all yours the next few nights."_

"_Hm, won't be long before there's another one that keeps me alone at night." She looked up at him as a soft smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She started wrapping his tie around her delicate fingers, "If I were a criminal I'd see you more, sergeant."_

_He pressed his lips to her forehead and loosened his hold on her, feeling her pull away slowly, "What do you want me to say, Jules? Look, I'll take a few weeks off after we finish processing this guy."_

"_Promise?" She looked over her shoulder as she began walking toward the bedroom, leading him like a needle as he followed like thread after removing his badge from his trousers and tossing it on the counter._

_He found her standing in front of the vanity and watched her begin to straighten the strap of the slip as she finished removing her earrings. Eyelet and lace had never been so alluring. He placed his hands on her warm skin and pressed his lips softly against her ear, "Promise."_

"_Don't break it, Carter." She pulled him down on the bed, wrapping her long legs around his waist, the eyelet and lace fabric of her slip gathering around her hips._

He'd rather be having dreams of all the horrific scenes he'd experienced in his years on the force than the memory his cerebrum was currently producing.

* * *

Edit since posting: Thanks to JadziaCee for pointing out the technical issue earlier ;].


	3. Wine and Police Reports

As noted on my profile, all of my further oneshots (and almost everything with exception to this story) for this pairing will no longer be posted here and will be posted over on Affair of Words on LJ. I've made it public so you guys don't have to create an account to view the stories. The link is on my profile. Opening lyrics are from Placebo.

_Let's follow the cops back home and rob their houses. _

_She wears her tears on her blouse; confused and wrecked with self-doubt. She stole the keys to my house and then she locked herself out._

Blake groaned as the electronic wail of the alarm sounded at precisely four thirty five in the morning, stirring him from dreamless sleep. The previous night's memory had not manifested into anything else; just six hours of nothingness. The lieutenant silently cursed at himself for forgetting to turn it off; this was just the beginning of his "vacation". A miraculous and unproductive three days.

He sat up for a moment but quickly decided against it and fell back into the firm mattress. He pressed his palms against his eyes as he lifted his hips up, stretching his thighs, feeling the muscles in his left calve start to spasm. The word "fuck" resonated through his brain filtered through as only a groan.

The twisting pain intensified and quickly dispersed down to his toes. He pulled himself up and leaned forward to rub the cramp away, cold darkness of the morning greeting him as he pulled the blanket from his body and his eyes adjusted. The chilled air consumed his entire being as he swung his legs over the mattress initiating the process to take a shower.

The power was back on and the furnace was working to restore a sufficient amount of heat to the house at an achingly slow pace. Carter studied his face in the mirror as he stepped out of the briefs and leaned over the counter-top, pinpointing a few straying hairs around his beard that needed to be removed. The lieutenant frowned at the bags under his eyes and a few deep set age lines before turning his attention back to his dark facial hair. He grabbed the small trimming scissors that were always on the counter and snipped at the strays hairs, deciding against actually shaving as he ran his hand along his jawline; only feeling a small bit of stubble. He reached for the electric razor and noticed the blinking light was signaling that the battery was drained and hadn't had time to charge last night due to the outage; He was on vacation, who the hell did he have to impress any way?

He stepped into the solitary shower and turned the valves until the water was just warm enough to redden his skin and begin to fog up the bathroom mirror. He opened his mouth to let the water collect it built up in his mouth to spill over his lips and run down his chest as his short black hair became soaked. A few drops of warm water trickled down his sides and reminded him of her fingers, the way she would avoid falling back to sleep and quietly follow him to the bathroom and slip in behind him some mornings.

It was the cold. That's when he thought of her the most; missed the warmth of her.

* * *

_The bitter aftertaste of alcohol made him bite back his words as he continued sipping at a gross amount of wine. The talk of floral arrangements, fabric types for decoration, lighting, and music selection had sent him into an internal debate of if he was going to start the day running over protocol or finishing reports first thing. _

_She was beautiful tonight. Loose curls draped her exposed shoulders with exception to the flesh that was covered by the thin straps of her black dress. The lights in distant skyscrapers in the city skyline gave the night sky the appearance of the stars the lights had long since blocked out over the rooftop terrace of the restaurant._

_The detail on the iron wrought chair behind Jules shoulder entailed a wreath of flowers around a flock of small birds. The center of the chair entailed a rather large bird spreading it's wings just before taking flight. It wasn't a herring or a stork. What was it? A big fucking bird was the only conclusion he came to before his observation was interrupted._

_He felt a soft slap on his arm and his eyes met hers as he continued to cut the ribeye in front of him, "Carter! You're not even listening to me..."_

"_Jules, I don't care….You can have doves flying around and…flower girls swingin' around in trapeze …and…French poodles…." He began to chuckle as the thought manifested in his head. Alcohol had become a much needed commodity since his promotion to lieutenant. _

_Her eyes narrowed and a grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. She didn't mind. Carter had a rather cute disposition when under the influence. His eyes got this far off gaze and she could tell the weight of his career lifted after a few drinks._

"…_Listen, all I care about is that you're happy, the wine isn't red, it's over by nine, and you're in some kind of revealing lingerie at the hotel by eleven." Blake counted his requests off on his free hand as he sat an empty glass of chardonnay on the table._

"_You're such a charmer," Julia smiled back as she pressed her own glass to her lips, "Any other requests before it's in stone that you don't care about décor or how the ceremony or reception go?"_

"_The ring." They had had this conversation numerous times and never came to a conclusion, at least not as far as Blake was concerned._

"_Carter, I'm using my grandmother's band. I'm not arguing this with you. It's been in the family for generations." Her voice became firm as she straightened her posture._

"_Yeah and through numerous divorces and remarriages." Blake sneered as he turned his attention to the bottle of chardonnay and poured another glass._

"_It's cute that you're sensitive about this." She brought one elbow on the table and pressed her cheek into her hand as she watched him._

_Blake raised his gaze to her before pressing the glass to his lips, giving a look of disdain at the comment but remained silent._

"_It means a lot to my mother." Julia toyed with her necklace, something she was fond of when there was nothing else to say. Blake rolled his eyes as he pressed the white linen against his mouth. Before he could argue further, he felt her small ankle brush against his leg. _

_He tossed the napkin on the table and ran his hand up the delicate mesh of sheer lace and fishnet that formed a fragile ladder up her leg. As he reached the hem of the knee high stockings and began playing with the satin strap of her garter, he felt her pull away as the waiter neared their table with the check. Blake laughed under his breath as the waiter slipped the small black book on the table and made his way to check on other guests. Julia adjusted the strap of her dress, and folded an arm over her stomach as she held her glass of chardonnay and smiled at him before bringing it to her lips. _

_He was a sucker for feminine persuasions, "This isn't over."_

* * *

_You have one message at 6:37am on November 10, 2011 ._ The automated female voice led into the soft sound of a real woman's voice.

"Good morning, lieutenant! Captain Perry requested that I contact you regarding a situation that arose last night. Please return this message as soon as possible." An internal groan occurred at the sound of Charlene. _So much for a fuckin' unproductive vacation_. Blake thumped his knee against the stainless steel island in the kitchen in an effort to fill the quiet house with some sort of noise as he waited for the receptionist to pick up the phone at the station.

"Hello – " Charlene's voice came through the line and Blake quickly interrupted the phone etiquette before she could continue her greeting.

"This is Blake, can you put Perry on the line?" Carter held the phone between his shoulder and face as he rinsed off the fork and plate he had tossed in the sink on a former occasion. He quickly shook the loose water droplets off and placed them in the dishwasher.

"Absolutely, lieutenant. Hold just a moment."

As he waited for Perry to pick up, he caught sight of the six and eight year old brother and sister that lived next door. He watched them play a short distant and sloppy game of tag with their cartoon embellished backpacks on. He watched the younger girl stumble in the grass next to the sidewalk and saw her face scrunch up. Before she could start crying, the brother had taken her hand and pulled her up. He walked around her and straightened her backpack. A faint smile tugged at the corner of Carter's lips before he heard a shift in the silence of the line that signaled that Perry was picking up.

"Ah, Blake! I'm glad you called!" Perry leaned back in his chair, happy to have a distraction and hopeful end to his current task at hand.

"Sir, I was calling back about your message…" Blake tried to cover his morning grogginess as he pulled a carton of orange juice from the fridge.

"I was just getting ready to call you again," Perry stated, glad he wouldn't have to interrupt the rest of his day trying to contact the lieutenant, "There was an incident at one of West Chester's fraternities and Caplan's son was involved. If you can take this for me and save me from spending half my day trying to get another lieutenant from going to the scene, I could put in a request for an increase in salary or at the very least an increase on the quarterly bonus coming up."

Caplan was his relief while off call. He didn't care much for the man. They had only spoke a handful of times and Caplan always seemed too distracted to carry on any kind of conversation regarding whatever cases they were currently working on.

"I'll assign officers to –" He took up the offer; he was long overdue for a raise after all. Before he could finish, Perry interrupted him.

"I've already got a sergeant and some officers on the way. I just need you there to document the record and open a working file for closure. And Carter?"

"Yes, sir?" Blake was ready for a warning against his usual violent interrogations.

"There are several allegations regarding Dobson's conduct during a call. Caplan's initiating the investigation, but I thought you may want to make the final judgment since he's one of your officers."

"I'll address the situation. Thank you, sir." Like he gave a fuck about Dobson. The lieutenant's own conduct had come under question numerous times, though nothing was ever officially documented; Carter justified himself on the fact that his aggression was taken out on perpetrators, not victims. Dobson would make comments toward rape and domestic violence victims that even Blake found disgusting. He was going to enjoy tearing into the prick.

Blake waited for another response from Perry as the silence over the phone was filled with a sense of lingering importance. He took in a deep breath, waiting for his superior to continue. As he was about to interject, he heard Perry clear his throat, "There's something else…"


	4. Acquaintances and Crime Scenes

Just a side note for those interested: I've posted several short Blayden pieces on An Affair of Words (link is on my profile). Now...on with the story!_  
_

_When everything's in order, is that what you write about? No news is bad new, when you're tryin' to spark that fuse…Stumbled out of a back alley on a blood red down. The ramshackle blocks seemed trampled upon, shattered glass scattered on burnt cement, a stray dog eatin' from a black bean tin. Stop in Edie's for a pick me up, for leads on how this town got so fucked. Poured a bloody Mary with a tired grin, sayin', "Too dramatic. Try again."_

No News is Bad News by Cursive

The agent pulled up the police tape and stopped under it by instinct. He was really getting tired of this god damn city. He had just closed in investigation in Pittsburgh before getting a call regarding the murder of several girls at a Philadelphia University. His superiors had requested that he begin the federal investigation as it entailed suspicion of human trafficking until the primary agent could reach the scene after wrapping up prior case work, meaning Norman had the pleasure of being in the city for another two days.

_At least it's just documenting the scene with ARI, nothing tedious._ Jayden reassured himself as he made his way through the foyer of the frat house. Before he could reminisce about college days, he saw a familiar figure crouching over the first signs of the struggle that had taken place, a shattered flat screen television. He watched Blake look toward him and rise up.

The nod that greeted him made Norman wonder if his conduct during the Origami Killer case had come under question. There was no real sign of aggravation or irritation that he was there. Just a simple nod in his direction before the lieutenant took a few steps toward him.

"We haven't had time to investigate the rest of the place, just got here before you," Blake explained halfheartedly as he looked toward the corridor leading further into the house. He watched the agent pull those ridiculous sunglasses from the inside of his coat. He understood their purpose - that they were some kind of recording device for visual documentation of investigations, but he still thought they made the younger man look even more like a jackass, "You wanna go first to record the scene?"

"Y-yeah…Yeah, I really appreciate it." The offer almost blew Norman off his feet as he nodded; sure he looked like an idiot to the older lieutenant. He was sure Blake was going to be right behind him, but he had expected some sort of asshole remark regarding trampling the scene. He didn't linger on it and decided the lieutenant's conduct must have come under review.

His stumbling of words didn't seem to affect Blake in the least. Instead, Norman noticed how tired the man's eyes were as they seemed to look right through him. Blake only gestured toward the area where the bodies were sure to be, and his body language didn't give off the frustration it did just weeks ago. It was a casual gesture that only gave way to how exhausted he was.

Jayden felt his stomach shift and the contents therein attempt to rise in his throat as he stepped toward the corridor. The smell of decomposing flesh hit his nostrils; He covered his mouth as he gagged the substance back and swallowed hard, turning away from the scene in effort to recoup. Blake noticed this but shrugged it off, holding back a slew of insults that were coming to life in his brain but lied dormant on his tongue as he pushed past the agent. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

Norman took a moment and once he got past the intense urge to vomit, placed ARI over his eyes and began to record the scene, "Agent 47023, Norman Jayden. Thursday, November 10, 2011. 7:02 am…"

The odor that had overtaken the room magnified within just several steps, causing Carter to turn his head for a moment as the stench filled his nostrils. He kept his eyes focused on the bloodied body as the morning sunlight slipped through the blinds and fell on the unfortunate girl's sliced skin. She was on her back, legs and arms sprawled out as her eyes were open, the look on her face beyond words. Her gaze was set toward the ceiling, looking into the lieutenant's eyes, sending a chill through his body. There was a deep gash under her left cheek bone, from under her ear to the center of her face; Blake wasn't sure if the glimmer of white he saw under the torn flesh was her jaw bone or a glimpse of the girl's teeth, "Christ..."

He took a step toward the hallway adjacent to the girl's body and stifled a gasp as he took a step back. Another girl was practically smeared across the long wall, a thick streak of blood with chunks of skin trailing several feet from her body; her eyes wide and face twisted in pain. Her thin black dress – no, it was yellow, the blood had stained it a deep brown – torn and frayed in several places. Blake noticed Jayden walking toward him and when in arm's length he placed his hand firmly on the younger man's chest, giving him a glance and then nod toward the hallway. He didn't care for the kid but did hold the decency to prepare him for the gruesome scene; bloodier than any he was sure Jayden had ever seen in his relatively short career in the field. The profiler nodded in understanding and glanced around the corner behind Blake.

Two seconds was all it took.

Blood, pieces of skin, and a contorted face caused him to turn quickly and double over, dry heaving once again - this time being unable able to muffle the sound. Blake placed a hand on his shoulder and silently continued down the hallway.

Jayden squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hand to his forehead. He was suddenly hit with a new found respect for the lieutenant; the same man he had previously viewed as an incompetent waste of police resources. He did his best to pull himself back together before following Blake, averting his eyes to the wall across from the body.

Norman tried his best not to inhale. He would rather asphyxiate than smell the stench that filled the hallway. He trailed after Blake, following him into the room at the end of the hallway, seeing the man glancing over a wall filled with photos of women. He watched the lieutenant run a calloused hand through his short hair before turning and leafing through magazines tossed on a cheap metal computer desk. Jayden noticed the man stop and look over his shoulder before rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the desk, pulling out all the drawers once he noticed the agent wasn't making a move to touch anything any time soon, "Don't need the FBI to tell us that the entire fraternity is guilty."

Blake turned to lean against the desk, prepared to give Jayden the reasoning behind his assumption – he'd become used to the young agent's methods. He knew a rebuttal was coming.

_There it is_. Norman internally smiled as the comment affirmed his initial feelings regarding working with the lieutenant again, even if it were temporary.

"How do yah know it was all of them?"

"Find it kind of hard not to notice two bodies out in the open..." Blake grumbled as he continued to investigate the scene. In an attempt to deter any further oppositional input from the agent he stated simply," If nothing else, all were an accessory to murder." From Blake's understanding of Jayden, he was too busy analyzing the small pieces to see the big picture.

Jayden shifted his weight and felt the words hit him; _He's right. There's no way this could be overlooked_...He placed his hands on his hips as he rocked back on his heels, "Should still see which of 'em were here. Make sure none were outta town, to avoid accusin' eh'ne one who wasn't around."

Blake glared at the agent, releasing an annoyed and muffled grunt before turning back to examine the room. After finding a few reproductions of Da Vinci's sketches of the arms along with his sketch of Christ. Under the Christ sketch were torn excerpts from the Bible. 

_Great, another God fearing mor -._ The thought was interrupted by the sound of a low gurgling noise. Carter turned slightly to the source and saw Norman Jayden crouching on the floor in the middle of rummaging through a cheap plastic storage container. Jayden felt the lieutenant's eyes on his back and felt his face heat up with the sound that his stomach ushered forth. This time turning from hunger instead of revulsion, "Sahrry…Haven't had much time tuh eat."

He wasn't sure why he felt the need to provide an explanation or even the need to apologize but to break up the silence that had filled the room, "Know eh'nee places that have'ah breakfast?"

"What do I look like, Norman, a fuckin' tourist pamphlet?" Blake scoffed as he leaned back against the table, "…There's local diner a few streets down. I was thinkin' of headin' over if ya wanna follow."

"Aw, Blake! Yah askin' me on'ah date?" Norman jested as he rose up from the ground; regretting the sentence as he finished it. The realization of who he was talking to and that he had probably ruined what little attempt the violent lieutenant was making at civility. His quick reevaluation of the comment was dissolved when he saw a smirk tugging at the corners of the older man's facial hair, flashing a glimpse of his white teeth.

"In your dreams, asshole - didn't expect a sense of humor out of you." Blake pushed off the desk and began making his way back through the scene of the crime. As he stepped through the doorway and nodded at Gary, who had been one of the officers assigned to the scene by Perry, he heard Norman call after him from the other room, "You gonna drive?"

Blake casually leaned back through the doorway and shot a sideways glance at the agent, "This isn't a real date, Princess…You can follow me."


	5. Vacant

_She had grown to hate the large bed she had once fallen in love with. When she came home from work, often followed by a stress headache, her purse and keys were quickly discarded on the small table in the foyer before she retreated to the couch, saving her laundry and cleaning for just before sleep; needing them to consume her lonely nights before finally resting in the vast empty bed that she had been avoiding until the late hours. _

_A weight on the mattress would often interrupt her sleep after the night had transition into the dark morning. Sometimes it would only cause a brief disturbance in her sleep pattern but more often than not, she'd open her eyes and stare up at the ceiling in the dark room. She'd wait a few moments until she heard his breaths deepen, turning toward him, moving closer and curling up beside him. After a few months of the promotion they had both celebrated, the only times they came in contact was late at night and when he'd leave some short hours in the morning. He had stopped wrapping his arm around her when his subconscious sensed her. Instead, he was consumed in sleep, remaining still or turning his back to her._

_Just brief months ago she had walked down the streets outside of the house with him, at the time it was on the market. __The leaves littered the cement like the light freckles on her cheeks as they walked together along the autumn streets of the upper-class Philadelphian area. Her shoulders were drawn forward due to the crippling cold as she walked with her gaze cast down toward the sidewalk. Her auburn hair was tucked into the black pea-coat, several locks escaping as she turned to ask him why exactly they were in the area. _

_He smirked as the question had come at the perfect time; she had remained silent until just now. He nodded for her to keep following until they were directly in front of the white two story house. A small smile tugged at the corner of her tiny mouth as she turned to him, "I thought we agreed we weren't going to talk about a house until you're promoted."_

_The crooked smirk on his face didn't require words, "In two weeks I'm officially Lieutenant."_

_Though even at the time s__he had felt a mixture of contentment and dread rain down on her at the same time, the opportunity to start on the path of a more secured future together and a family was greater than the voice in the back of her head telling her his long nights as Sergeant were about to become even longer. She leaped in to his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and kissing him hard, giving in to the initial feeling of happiness wrapped in material wealth._

_The spring had now arrived and along with it the screeching halt of wedding plans. She hadn't told him this yet, but she had stopped planning close to a month ago, shortly after the miscarriage. After losing the baby, the emptiness of the house consumed her. Before, she focused on the growth of her stomach and humming in the nursery she had set up alone. Now she was stuck in the tomb of a house, a memorial to an unborn child and a failing relationship._


	6. Of Banter and Toast

Rain streaked the elongated window that accompanied the booth, the chill of November air pressing against the glass. Blake let his gaze wander from the less than scenic view of the street and to the face of the man accompanying his breakfast. The agent paid him no attention as he cut the omelet on his plate. Carter leaned back, moving his gaze to the remains of his breakfast; composed of overcooked bacon and undercooked eggs. The distraction of food had faded and gave way to discomfort.

The weight of silence took its toll and he made his attempt at some form of strained conversation, "You said you're not assigned to this case?"

It wasn't that Blake cared or was even remotely interested; he was just trying to relieve the awkwardness of the moment. The question hung there for a moment, suspended in the uncut tension.

"…Trafficking isn't my specialty – I was the closest agent so I'm filling in until Agent Carrington is here. Once he arrives, I'll be relieved and outta yah hair." Norman's gaze shot over to the lieutenant for a brief moment, having noticed earlier just how straining it was for the man to really extend anything other than the simple invitation to breakfast.

Blake smirked at the last comment as he sat down his empty glass, causing it to clank against the cheap table, "You wouldn't be in my hair this time - I'm on vacation. I'm off the case after I drop off the report."

"Oh?" Norman said in disinterest, bringing another bite of the greasy yet edible omelet to his mouth. The least he could do was humor the older man.

"Separate checks, right?" A tired waitress in her late twenties looked at the two of them as she retrieved the standard black checkbooks from her apron. The pair nodded as she placed their bills on the end of the table with a small smile and the customary, "Have a good day."

As she walked off behind him, Jayden watched in amusement as the lieutenant's eyes followed her, lowering to her ass as she made her way to the back of the diner. He shifted in his seat, watching as Blake seemed to lose interest and glance over to him briefly before sliding his phone from his coat pocket, checking for any message notifications that may rescue him from the awkward breakfast, "You takin' time off when you get back to DC?"

Norman pressed the cheap paper napkin to his mouth, wiping at the greasy remains of breakfast before giving a dismissive nod, "Nah, I have ah'nother case assigned to me as soon as I get back."

They sat in silence for a moment as Blake waited for the man to give some kind of details but realized none were coming. His gaze lazily rested on the younger man's face until Norman looked up at him, over his coffee with mixture of amusement and confusion on his face as his brows slightly drew together. His eyes flickered briefly to the rain soaked window and the parade of umbrellas filling the streets, then back to the agent, "You always this boring, Norman?"

"Oh, I'm _so_ sahrry to bore you, lieutenant! Tell me your vastly interestin' vacation plans!" Norman scoffed, leaning back and folding his long arms in front of himself; both irritated and amused by the light insult.

Their eyes locked for a brief moment before Blake opened his mouth, a hint of amusement reflecting in his eyes, "Goin' to Cairo around six this afternoon."

"…Really?" The agent cocked his head, slightly intrigued by whatever connection the man had to the Egyptian capital.

"Yeah, where ever the Travel Channel takes me," Blake jeered, retrieving his card from the checkbook and returning it to his wallet, "I'm shittin' ya, Jayden."

"Oh! The antichrist has ah sense ah humor as well!" Norman exclaimed, genuinely amused by the joke, his accent becoming thicker and he chuckled, "Wouldn't 'ah figured that about you from how much'ah an asshole you were to me last time I was here."

Carter's eyes narrowed as the right corner of his mouth lifted in shared amusement, "Ya'know Norman, I would've figured a profile would have figured out I may have been a little stressed under a situation to drug out two years."

He watched the charmed smirk disappear from the agent's face almost as quickly as it had manifested. He decided to change the subject, not caring to get into an argument this early with an asshole he wasn't going to see again, "You got a girlfriend or somethin' back in DC?"

The younger man's brow rose, taken back by the question. The lieutenant thought he could see an awkward apprehension as the brunet began to open his mouth but stopped, only to begin a reformed sentence a moment later, "No. Don't really have time fah that kinda stuff. What ah'bout you?"

He nodded at the lieutenant's bare ring finger, "I take it there's not'ah miss'uhs Blake?"

"Nah," He hesitated for a moment as well, holding his breath as he met the profiler's gaze and narrowed his eyes in a glare that warned the agent not to push for details, "I don't bother with that shit."

Norman's eyes widened a bit at the comment, turning the thought over in his head to entertain the thought that it was for the same reasons as himself before he shook it off, knowing full well that there was no further implication and certainly not one regarding sexuality. The remark generally interested him but he was familiar enough with the lieutenant's short temper, noticing how the man's body language had changed in that moment, and decided to let sleeping dogs lie; though not without a little prodding.

The best way he had found to open the officer's type up was with comments made in jest, "Ah, c'mon Cartah! Every woman in Philly must be bustin' down yah door for ah charm'ah like yahself!"

Blake glared at the younger man for a moment before a smirk pushed at the corners of his mouth, "Yeah? What about a sensitive pussy like you, _Norman_? Lotta women eat that shit up."

He watched as the smile softly faded and a subtle shade of pink added a hint of color to the man's pallid complexion. He noticed how the man's accent became heavier when he was relaxed. The agent leaned back from the table and brushed it off, "Like I said, I don't have the time for it."

The lieutenant took another sip of his coffee and placed the cup back on the table, keeping his eyes on the agent, noting how tense his frame had become, "Ah – c'mon! Now you got my attention, Jayden! What happened with her?"

"S'cuse me?"

"C'mon – any guy who says he doesn't have time for pussy is sulkin' over some broad."

"Is that your problem?" Jayden leaned forward, narrowing his pale eyes for a brief moment as he attempted to avoid the morning sunlight that was streaming in the tall windows.

"Don't give me that shit, Norman. I told you I'm just not interested in that shit anymore." No sooner had he said it, he saw a comeback form itself on Jayden's face.

"Ah, yah have some trouble gettin' it up! I see. No need to be ashamed, Blake. Plenty'a guys your age have that prahb'lum, I hear." Norman's gaze flicked down to the edge of the booth, in the direction of Blake's crotch, hiding the real thought that was coming to mind.

"Ha ha ha, asshole. You're fuckin' hilarious. I can assure you that all that is in working order – since you're so interested in it." He sneered, the look quickly fading when he watched the younger man give him a completely different look, not unlike those he gave females when glancing over them.

Just as the kid opened his mouth to give what was sure to be another smartass remark, a soft pinging noise drew the conversation to a close as Blake watched the younger man slide his phone from his pocket.

Norman released a deep breath as he saw the caller was his superior, a little disappointed that his time with the homicide lieutenant was coming to a close, "I gah'ta go…Maybe I'll see yah ah'round?"

"Take care of yourself, kid." Blake noticed Jayden's last words were tinged with the sound of hopefulness, forming more of a question than a simple statement but he ignored it as he slid off out of the booth. He made his way past the agent as he fumbled with his wallet and threw a few paper bills on the table. The call had come just in time; Carter had a feeling their tolerable conversation was close to becoming really fucking irritating; the pasty fuck had a tendency to get under his skin.

As he opened the door to his car, he noticed the agent exiting the diner, looking strictly business with the phone glued to the side of his face. He watched as Jayden ended the call and opened the door of his car. Carter started to call across the street to ask if he had his number but shook his head at the thought. He had grown accustomed to spending his free time unwinding by himself and certainly didn't need to be making exceptions for Norman fucking Jayden.


End file.
